


And I Can Feel My Heart Skip (Everytime That I Slip)

by ifwallscouldspeak



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Muslim!Alexandre, Post-Season/Series 01 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak
Summary: “Done,” Alex says automatically. “Wait. What?”Imane shrugs. “It’s simple. We pretend to date for a few weeks, your family thinks you’re becoming a devout and mature young man, and my friends and I become known as the girls who threw the biggest, coolest party of the year. It’s a win-win situation.”(A season 02 AU where Alex D. and Imane concoct a fake relationship so they can both get what they want, and end up falling for each other instead.)





	And I Can Feel My Heart Skip (Everytime That I Slip)

**Author's Note:**

> You may be asking yourself, "so, exactly what is this ship/fic and why did you write it???"
> 
> And my answer is I DON'T KNOW! The only thing I do know is I'm trash and I was procrastinating writing so I binged Skamfr and the entire time all I could think about what how fucking FUN the dynamics between Alex D. and Imane would be if they ever interacted. So instead of focusing on the many unfinished fics I have, I started on this, and thousands of words later HERE I AM, I hope I have convinced you to be on this crackship with me. 
> 
> As always, all grammar, spelling and syntax errors are my own. I do not own SKAMFr. Title comes from "Closer" by Lemaitre. 
> 
> NOTE: I made some creative liberties with names of characters we haven't been introduced to yet and with Imane's and Alex's ethnicities/religions (I will explain in the endnotes, but I'm pretty sure they haven't been explicitly said in the show). I also know pretty much nothing about Paris, so please excuse any inconsistencies! 
> 
> ALSO NOTE: There will be secondary pairings in this story, but one of them will NOT be Charles/Manon. Just a fair warning - I don't like his character at all and don't ship Marles so it won't be making an appearance here.

+++

 

**#BakhellalBros**

**_[Monday, 14:27]_ **

_Elimu_

Yo

Who’s trying to do me a favor rn

 

_Jabari_

No one

 

_Elimu_

That’s messed up

Come on, please?

It’s a quick one

 

_Jabari_

I’m at the lab all night, I don’t have time to run errands for you

 

_Elimu_

Okay, bet

Remember that

Imane?

Please?

What do you want Elimu?

_Elimu_

I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer this morning

Can you buy some on your way home from school

So that I can start cooking before Ma gets home?

Are you serious?

_Elimu_

As a heart attack

Aren’t you home right now?

_Jabari_

I swear you’re the laziest person in Paris, Elimu

 

_Elimu_

COME ON, IMANE PLEASE

I don’t feel like getting dressed

And the butcher’s on your way home

Absolutely

_Elimu_

:)

Not

_Elimu_

IMANE COME ON

I’ll be your slave for the week

You’re already my slave for the week

I did your laundry remember?

_Elimu_

That ends tomorrow though!

I have plans

So no

_Elimu_

PLEASE

No

_Elimu_

Okay

I’m gonna remember this, watch

Okay

Great

_Jabari_

You’re so dramatic

+++

 

Imane is in the middle of complaining about her latest biology grade - she still can’t understand why she didn’t get at least partial credit on her description of stem cell therapy  - when Binta elbows her in the ribs. Imane wheezes for a minute; she’s more shocked than she is in pain, but still. She twists in her seat, glaring at her longtime best friend. Binta barely notices the dark look though, probably from a lifetime of Imane’s glares. Anyone else would be cowering, Imane knows from experience.

“Rude,” Imane says.

“Sorry,” Binta says, nonplussed. “But some fine-ass basketball player just walked in.”

They’re at their favorite table, in Imane’s favorite Senegalese café, Pene's. Ever since Binta took Imane under her wing in middle school, they’ve been coming here at least once a week just to chill. Imane loves their spot because it’s a comfy booth, tucked in the corner; Binta loves it because it’s a great location for people watching. Imane sips at her tea, casually glancing towards the front door.

The sight of Alexandre Delano strolling towards the counter like he owns the place almost makes her spit her drink out. She makes a small, choking noise.

“I know,” Binta says admiringly.

Imane barely notices as a couple of other Raptors bang through the doorway and follow him inside, even as the noise level skyrockets. She keeps her eyes narrowed and on Alex. He’s stepped up to the counter, leaning casually over the display and chatting with the owner like they’re old friends. To her surprise, when Mr. Pene says something to him in Wolof, Alex laughs out loud and speaks it right back to him.

“And he brought his cutest white boys with him,” Binta says approvingly.

Imane rolls her eyes. “You’re literally shameless.”

“What?” Binta grins. “I’m just appreciating the view, habiti.”

“You think Jabari would appreciate you ‘appreciating the view’?” Imane asks, still staring at Alex’s profile.

Binta waves her hand. “Your brother knows what it is.”

One of Alex’s boys joins him at the counter, pointing at some of the desserts with interest. Imane watches with sharp eyes and Mr. Pene leans in, proudly explaining what thiakry is. In the background, a few of the other ball players look slightly uncomfortable under the warm yellow lights and West African decor. One of them appears to be mocking Mr. Pene’s accent in low tones, an exaggerated look on his face. Imane grinds her teeth.

She’s not the only one who notices, though.

Alex half-turns towards his teammate. Lightning-fast, he jabs him in the ribcage with his fist. It looks as if it’s part of the joke, some weird guy’s pound or something; yet Imane suspects it’s something more, with the way he winces at the contact. The punch actively looks like it hurts, and his teammate mutters something and then falls into silence. The guys around him start chuckling and shoving at him, obviously having found something new to crack jokes about.

“Hey, aren’t those guys on our school’s basketball team?” Binta asks, a little bit too loudly.

“Binta!” Imane hisses, turning to give Binta a dirty look. “Shut up.”

It’s too late, though. Alex turns around all the way, his head up and his eyes scanning the café. Imane schools her face into a blank look, trying not to groan aloud. Alex’s gaze sweeps over her at first, but then slowly tracks back to her and Binta’s table. He cocks an eyebrow at her, as if trying to place her. Imane wants to roll her eyes in response, because it’s just so typical that he doesn’t recognize her -

“Imani, hey,” Alex grins.

Imane doesn’t say anything back, and just moves to turn to Binta. Her friend’s already staring at her, with one eyebrow raised and a curious look on her face. Imane can practically read the look in her eyes - _oh, so you know this fine ass man and you weren’t gonna say anything_? Imane purses her lips and gives her a look right back - _did you hear what he called me? I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me._

Binta parts her lips, but nothing comes out of her mouth as her gaze slides past Imane. Imane turns slightly just in time to see Alex strolling over to their table. Surprise floods her insides as he grins at her, stopping right at the corner of their booth. Imane practically has to crane her neck up to look at him, his dreads falling into his eyes. The rest of the Raptors stay at the counter, seemingly nonplussed that Alex’s left them to talk to a couple of girls.

Typical, Imane thinks.

“You too cool to say hi back, or what?” Alex asks, still smiling.

Imane doesn’t smile back. “Who are you talking to?”

He furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Imane repeats, “who are you talking to?”

“Uh -”

“You can’t have been talking to me,” Imane says, “Cause my name is not Imani.”

The easy smile is back on his face. “Sorry, my bad. I must’ve mistaken you for this pretty girl who goes to my school. She’s a friend of my friend Emma?”

A burst of thoughts crowd Imane’s brain as she tries to process his sentence. The first is that she’s pretty sure Emma would consider Alexandre Delano to be a lot of things, but her friend isn’t one of them. The second is that she can’t believe what a fucking flirt he's being, even when he’s insisting that he knows what her name is. The third is that, no matter how hot her cheeks feel right now, she is absolutely not into the fact that he’s trying to flirt with her.

“No, that is me,” she says smoothly. “And my name still isn’t Imani.”

“Imane,” Binta, the traitor, smiles manically as she stresses her pronunciation, “are you gonna introduce me to your friend?”

“We’re not friends,” Imane says.

“Alexandre,” Alex says over Imane, grinning at Binta. “And you?”

“Binta,” Binta says, exaggeratingly batting her eyelashes.

Imane would be annoyed except she finds it really damn funny. That, and it’s kind of always a treat to watch Binta flirt. It’s always harmless - she’s so disgustingly in love with Jabari that Imane knows it doesn’t mean anything but a bit of fun - but it’s also a marvel to watch. Especially because Binta has the fullest, most beautiful eyelashes that Imane has ever seen on another human being. Most people turn into a puddle of goop when she does her signature move.

“Any friend of Imane’s is a friend of mine,” Alex says, also stressing his pronunciation.

“Again,” Imane repeats herself, “We’re not friends. And neither are you and Emma, for that matter.”

“Of course we are,” Alex says easily, rolling his eyes at Binta like they’re in on some joke together.

“No we’re not,” Imane snaps. “Why would I be friends with a fuckboy?”

Alex doesn’t even lose his stride. “Hey, fuckboys have a lot to offer.”

Before Imane can snap back - _what, like three different strains of chlamydia?_ \- Binta’s leaning forward, flashing Alex her prettiest smile. The folds of her hijab fall just so over her shoulders. It’s a good look.

“I think we had chemistry together last year,” she says. “With Mademoiselle Leveaux?”

“Oh yeah!” Alex’s grin brightens, not that Imane thought that would be possible. “Man, can you believe how hard that final was? I thought I was gonna fail -”

“Me too,” Binta laughs.

Imane rolls her eyes. “Says the girl who got a seventeen -”

“Seventeen? Wow,” Alex says. “Brains and beauty.”

For some reason that Imane doesn’t want to investigate, that comment riles her. She clears her throat, and glares up at Alex. Just behind him, his teammates look like they’re all done ordering and paying. They crowd around the entrance, talking and shoving at each other.

“Looks like your boys are about to leave you,” she says pointedly.

“Ouch, trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.”

For some infuriating reason, the smile doesn’t slip off his face. “Okay, I can take a hint -”

“A hint?” Imane raises her eyebrows. “That would imply subtly. Let me be more clear: goodbye now.”

He winks at her. “Alright. See you around, Binta. Imane.”

Imane tells herself that her heart absolutely does not flutter at his wink or at the slow, easy way he says her name. She also tells herself that she absolutely doesn’t watch him twist and walk away, shouting out to his teammates and laughing as they all leave.

She tells herself that, but Binta’s knowing look says, _oh sis, I got your number._

“What?” Imane asks.

“You were totally flirting with him,” Binta grins.

“Did you miss the part where I said he was a total fuckboy?” Imane demands. “And that I was trying to get him to leave?”

“You being rude is you flirting.” Binta waves a hand. “Besides, he was flirting right back -“

Imane shakes her head. “Binta, this isn’t some American teen drama where pure annoyance is coded as sexual tension -”

“Sexual tension, huh?” Binta grins at her.

“You’re impossible,” Imane groans.

“Hey, they were your words, not mine.” Binta says. “Besides, I’ve known you for too long to let you lie to me. You might want to tell yourself you like nice boys, but you have too much fun going back and forth with guys like that.”

Imane gives her an unimpressed look. “So now you think you’re my therapist or something?”

“Hey, I have to practice on someone before I start med school,” Binta winks.

 

+++

 

**Alexia**

**_[Tuesday, 6:40]_ **

IMANE

IMANE ARE YOU AWAKE

IMANE

???????

I am now

What’s wrong?

We didn’t have homework, right?

For which class?

For all of them? :3

Alexia Martineau…………..

I know!

I just got caught up last night

I was hanging out with Clara

HANGING OUT

Haha

I got it, thanks

Will you help me?

Pretty pleaaaaaaaaase

Yes, of course

You’re the best, Imane <3

Meet me at school in 30 and we’ll get through what we can

Anything else I got at lunch

Hopefully

Oh Alex

:D

 

+++

 

“Don’t look now, Emma,” Daphne says teasingly, “but Alex is staring at you.”

“No I’m not!” Alexia protests. “I’m finishing my project.”

Imane and Manon share a slightly exasperated look across the table. The squad is milling around, just a few more minutes left on their lunch period. Imane and Daphne sit on one side of the table; Emma and Manon are on the other. Alexia sits at one of the heads. She has all of her homework spread out across the table, hastily scribbling in answers. Emma gives her patented confused look, the one where it sort of seems like she smells something funky. Imane tries not to laugh as Daphne rolls her eyes.

“I meant Alexandre,” Daphne huffs. “Come on, Alex. This happens at least once a week.”

“Well, it’s confusing!” Alexia says, flipping one of her braids back. “Can’t you say his last name or something when you’re talking about him?”

Before Daphne can say anything back, Emma’s loud groan drowns her out. She slumps a little, hiding her face into Manon’s shoulder. Manon looks down at her with a fond smile on her face.

“And now he’s coming over,” her voice is muffled. “Great.”

“Uh,” Daphne says, “And he’s bringing Charles.”

The smile slides off of Manon’s face. “Great.”

“Ladies!”

Imane looks up just as Alex and Charles begin pulling chairs away from the table, moving to sit down in the empty spots across from Alexia. Imane immediately furrows her brow in confusion, and she’s definitely not the only one. The spoon that Alexia was chewing on falls out of her mouth and onto her textbook. Daphne stares with her eyes wide and her lips half-parted. Emma seems to be pretending she doesn't see either of them, and Manon is just staring blankly at Charles’s wide, smirking face.

“Hi,” Daphne squeaks.

“Is there something you guys need?” Manon asks.

Imane thinks it’s much more polite than what she wanted to say, which was _what the hell do you want?_ She licks her lips and glances over at the two guys. Charles is staring at Manon, speaking about some party the Raptors are throwing to celebrate their point guard's eighteenth birthday. Alex is already looking back at her, a small smile on his face. When he catches her eyes, he winks.

Imane wouldn’t say that startles her, exactly, but it has the same kind of feeling to it. She glances back at her friends, cheeks growing warm, to see if any of them noticed what just happened. But they’re all listening to Charles with a varying degree of interest as he recounts the details for the party. Daphne looks overly excited, Alexia looks delighted, Emma looks mostly bored, and Manon is reapplying her lipstick in a small compact. When Imane glances back at Alex again, his grin widens.

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you at Pele’s before,” he says.

He puts his forearms on the table and leans closer to her. Imane absolutely does not focus on the way the muscles in his bare arms tense; she absolutely does not think that it’s not fair that he looks so damn good in a plain gray t-shirt.

It’s all just distracting enough that she doesn’t say anything sarcastic back at him.

“I was surprised to see you there too,” she admits. “I didn’t think anyone else at this school knew about it.”

He grins. “I’ve been going there since I was a kid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Then it is weird we haven’t seen each other there before,” Imane says. “Binta and I have been going there since middle school.”

“My mom is really good friends with the owners, so I was practically raised in the café.” Alex says. “You know how African parents are. Everyone from their country is their cousin.”

Imane laughs, surprised, because she knows exactly what he means. Of course she always knew that Alex is Black; however, she had no idea that his mom was African. She feels slow on the uptake, but, suddenly, him knowing Wolof makes a lot more sense.

“Your mom is Senegalese?” she asks.

He nods. “And you’re Congolese, right?”

It’s the second time he’s surprised her, and she’s not sure that she likes it. She tilts her head at him, looking at him consideringly. She wonders how he guessed correctly, right on his first try. Most people, even other Black people, ask her if she's from Mali or the Ivory Coast, because of their large Muslim populations.

“Yeah,” she says.

“Looks like we have a lot in common,” he grins widely at her, eyes sparkling.

Imane finds herself leaning forward slightly, ready to say something sharp and cute. Just as she lifts one eyebrow though, Alexia’s laugh breaks through her thoughts, and she stops herself short.

Because what - what is she even doing, right now?

Her shoulders straighten and she moves back in her seat, the teasing smile falling off of her face. She can’t possibly be flirting with Alexandre Delano, the biggest fuckboy in their entire school. The guy who cheated on his girlfriend with not one, but two other girls during the same party. The most renown flirt in Paris, probably. And here she is, letting herself fall into this conversation with him, as if he deserves her sly smiles and sharp wit. Ugh.

She wants to curse Binta, because her girl was totally right.

Instead, she turns her head and tries to tune into the conversation happening next to her. She catches Manon’s eye, surprised to find her friend staring at her. Manon’s lips are parted slightly in curiosity, and her gaze slides cautiously between Imane and Alex. Imane huffs slightly, giving Manon a little headshake. She’s not sure exactly what she’s trying to portray, but the inquisitive look on Manon’s face is enough to make her want to start denying things.

Not that there’s anything to deny.

“You ladies are gonna stop by, right?” Charles asks, staring right at Daphne with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, we’re in!” Alexia says. “I’m ready to party.”

“Didn’t we have that thing to do Saturday night, though?” Manon asks, cutting a glare at Alexia.

Daphne shakes her head quickly. “No, we don’t have anything -”

“Maybe you and I can go back together soon,” Alex’s voice says, way too loudly into Imane’s ear. “Just the two of us.”

Imane doesn’t jump, but she does twist her body around to glare at him. Alex stares at her intently, though the look in his eyes is entirely humorous. His mouth is quirked just so as he waits for her to answer him, completely ignoring her friends arguing around them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Emma staring right at Alex, her mouth open in shock. She has a disbelieving look on her face, like she’s not entirely sure she’s just heard what he said correctly. Imane couldn’t agree with her more, in this moment.

Because, for possibly the first time in her life, she is literally speechless. She wants to ask exactly what the hell does he think he’s doing. It’s one thing for him to flirt with her; he flirts indiscriminately with everyone. It’s a completely different thing for him to come out of his face and ask her out. However, when her lips part, no sound slips past them. She just stares at him as the grin on his face grows more crooked.

The sound of a textbook slamming shut brings Imane’s brain careening back to earth.

“Maybe we’ll see you there, but we probably won’t,” Manon says, scraping her chair back from the table. “Anyway. Girls? Class?”

Imane’s not proud to admit that she jumps up, almost banging her knees against the bottom of the table. She gathers her stuff without sparing another glance at Alex, confusion and annoyance vying for attention inside her head. She doesn’t even bother to check to see if the rest of her friends are following. She just struts out of the lunchroom after Manon, shaking her head.

“What was that even?” Manon bursts out as soon as they march into the hallway.

Imane shrugs her shoulders, not even sure what to say. "Who can say?“

“God, Charles just doesn’t give up, does he?” Manon mutters. “He’s such a -”

She stops short, and then her lips press together in annoyance. Behind her, Imane can hear Emma, Daphne and Alexia clamoring after them, talking over one another. Imane opens her mouth to ask Manon what she was going to say, but Manon quickly shakes her head, eyes darting to Daphne. Imane takes a small breath and stays quiet, waiting for the rest of the girls to reach them before she starts walking towards class again.

“That was good, right?” Daphne asks excitedly. “And I - was I okay? I wasn’t too eager, right?”

“No, you sounded cool,” Alexia says.

“Okay, good,” Daphne says. “Manon, I can’t believe you tried to tell Charles we wouldn’t go to his party -”

“Imane, what was Alex whispering to you about?” Alexia suddenly cuts her off. “It sounded intense -”

“Yeah, did you guys hang out, or something?” Daphne asks, eyes growing wide. “It sounded like you were together -”

Imane rolls her eyes. “No, we just happened to run into each other. It was nothing.”

Manon says, “The way he was looking at you didn’t look like nothing -”

“Yeah,” Emma raises her eyebrows. “And did I hear him ask you -”

“About the party?” Imane says quickly. “Yeah. I said that if we go, it’s a group choice.”

She’s not sure why she lies, exactly. But she watches as Emma’s face scrunches for a moment, and then she nods slowly, like she knows better than to push Imane. Imane glances away, staring down the crowded hallway instead.

“They’re both pieces of work,” Manon mutters.

"They're pieces of something," Emma agrees. 

 

+++

 

**Binta**

**_[Tuesday, 15:04]_ **

I just ran into your man in the hall

He’s looking for you

Who?

The basketball player ;)

Again

Who?

-_-

To quote the Queen:

When you play me

You play yourself

Don't play yourself

 

+++

 

Imane rolls her eyes down at her phone, closing out of her texts with Binta. She turns the music up on her screen instead, nodding her head slowly to Cardi B’s new album. She stands at the corner, waiting for the light to change so she can cross the street and make her bus. She can see it just down the block. If the light changes before it reaches the street she’s on, she won’t have to wait fifteen minutes for the next one.

The light turns red, and the bus slows to a halt. Imane sighs in relief, and steps out into the street.

Someone grabs onto the sleeve of her jacket, jerking her backwards.

Imane hisses, wrenching her arm away from the person’s grasp. She turns swiftly, her arms rising immediately, defensively. She vaguely sees someone putting their hands up in surrender, before her gaze focuses. She breathes shakily in relief, before yanking the earbud out of her right ear. Her jack-rabbiting heartbeat doesn’t even slow down once she recognizes the person. It takes everything in her not to double-check that her hijab is still on her head, securely wrapped around her.

“Alex?” she glares at him.

He slowly lowers his hands and shoves them into his jacket pockets. “Imane, hey -”

“Don’t ever grab at -” she starts to snap, before she takes a deep breathing. “What do you want?”

“You never answered me about going to Pele’s together,” he says.

He has the audacity to smile at her, easy and slow, as if he didn’t just scare the shit out of her. She just looks at him, music still blaring into her left ear. The fast beat does nothing to sooth her pulse, and she still feels shaky. She opens her mouth to say something, but then just snaps her jaw shut. Instead of engaging with him more, she turns on her heel and sprints across the street. She’s not going to miss her bus for this bullshit.

Alex calls her name behind her, but she ignores him in favor of putting her earbud back into her ear. She makes it to the bus stop just as the light turns green again, and the bus slowly comes rolling up to the stop. She digs around in her pocket, her fingers clenching around her bus pass. She gets in line behind a couple of middle school girls in plaid skirts.

Just as she’s about to step up onto the bus, Alex’s face pops up next to her. He’s frowning at her, like she confuses him, as if she’s the one who’s been behaving weirdly. Imane shoots him a dirty look and climbs onto the bus, giving the driver a small, friendly smile. The bus isn’t too crowded, and Imane knows it’s because it’s the early bus. The one that’s fifteen minutes later definitely will be packed with other students from her school.

She goes straight to the back, settling down into an empty two-seater. She swings her bag off of her back and is about to place it onto her lap when Alex plops down right next to her. She jumps slightly, looking at him incredulously. He grins back at her, hiking his foot up and placing his sneaker on the back of the seat in front of them. He leans back, stretching his arm around the back of her seat, as if they’re friends or dating or something. It takes everything in her not to shift backwards onto his arm, a small thrill going through her as she inhales his cologne.

The bus lurches and starts rolling down the street. Imane shakes herself internally, reminding herself that this is Alexandre Delano sitting next to her. She presses pause in the middle of “She Bad,” not bothering to take her headphones out this time.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks. “Do you even take this bus?”

“Yes,” Alex answers. “And no. I don’t even know where this bus goes.”

She rolls her eyes. “What do you want?”

Instead of answering, he pokes her in the shoulder. “Do you always play your music so loud? I was calling your name for like, two blocks and you didn’t hear me. I had to run to catch you.”

“If someone’s listening to music that loud,” she says pointedly, “It generally means they don’t want to talk.”

“Good to know,” he says. “Though doing that is really bad for your hearing - ”

“Could you cut to the point and get off my bus?” Imane says, her patience wearing thin.

Honestly, she doesn’t understand why he’s doing. As she stares at him, clearing his throat, she wonders if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, either.

“Let’s go to Pele’s together,” he says. “Like a date.”

“No,” Imane says.

Surprise colors his face. “No?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” Imane says. “No.”

“Uh, okay,” he says. “Uhm - alright. It doesn't have to be Pele’s. What about Ohinéné, or L’Equateur?”

It doesn’t go past her that he seems to only be suggesting African spots, and she’s not sure exactly how to feel about that. The longer this inane conversation goes on, actually, the longer she’s not sure how to feel about any of it. It’s not that she doesn’t think a cute, popular guy like Alex couldn’t be into her. She knows that she might come off as scary, but she has a lot going for her. And in her experience, quite a few guys like it when she’s mean to them, for whatever reason.

But this feels different.

Because this is Alex, who has pretty much never acknowledged her existence. She might have known who he was since she started school, but she’s sure he’s never even glanced her way before he fooled around with Emma. He hadn’t even said two words to her before he ran into her and Binta at Pele’s. She’s not vain enough to think that he took one look at her there and fell in love - or like or whatever - on the spot. At least not enough for him to essentially be stalking her.

“Alex, don’t waste my time,” she says.

“Huh?”

She gestures at him. “What are you doing?”

He gives her a look of mock-indignation. “I’m just trying to ask a cute girl out on a date -”

“Fuck!” she huffs, wanting to laugh. “Have you ever, just once in your life, been honest with a girl before?”

Imane knows that she must have hit a sore spot, because something in him just… seems to shift. The smile stays on his face, almost frozen, even as the teasing drains out of it. His foot slips down from the seat in front of him and he shifts, almost unconsciously putting a bit of space between them. His eyes scan over her face. She patiently stares back at him, eyebrows raised in annoyance. He dips his tongue out slightly, wetting his lips, before he speaks.

“My grandma’s visiting from Dakar in a few weeks, and I need her to believe I’m a good Muslim man,” he blurts out.

Imane’s mouth drops open, because, what even?

“She’s really old and pretty sick,” Alex continues. “And - I just want her to be happy, you know? But she hears things, from my aunts - you know, about how I only date French girls and I only pray once a week and I just want to play basketball, I’m not interested in being a doctor -”

“What the hell,” Imane barely whispers, the words coming out more like a feeling than actual speech.

“I know that it’ll make her really happy, you know, if I was dating a pretty, smart, Muslimah from an African family,” Alex says. “You know, someone just like you -”

Imane finds her voice again at exactly the right moment. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah, you know -”

“Right,” Imane says, tone going hard, “Someone like me. Not me, the actual person. No, just some stereotype that you imagined up to trick your poor dying grandmother!”

“I -”

“So you thought that you’d just, what?” she demands, glaring at him, “Pretend to like me so I’d go out with you? So that I could simper and adore you and you could parade me around in front of your family? In front of every African in Paris?”

Suddenly his choice of restaurant makes so much more sense; it makes her even angrier.

“Hey!” Imane can’t believe he has the nerve to look offended. “It’s not pretending. I do like you, even though you’re actually really rude -”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she hisses at him. “I mean, I knew you were a fuckboy, but this just takes the cake!”

She knows she’s causing a small scene; a few people have all turned around to stare at them already. A particularly concerned-looking older white woman glares at the back of Alex’s head, like he’s assaulting Imane or something. It would make her laugh, normally, but she’s too pissed off at the moment to even crack a smile.

Because the fucking audacity!

She’s two seconds away from smacking him upside the head for even thinking he could try to play her like this. And she knew it; she fucking knew that he wasn’t actually interested in her -

He runs his hand over his hair, tugging at the locs in frustration. “Okay, stop yelling at me?”

She actually does laugh at him. “Why should I?”

“I know it was a fucked up idea, but I really love my grandma, okay?” he mumbles. “And - I’ve been fucking up a lot, okay. I know she’s not proud of me. I know my parents think I -”

He stops himself, gritting his teeth. Despite herself, Imane wants to ask him what he was going to say about his parents. Luckily, her mouth has a better self-preservation instinct than her heart, so she says nothing. She does cross her arms over her chest though, leaning away from him. He takes a small breath and keeps speaking anyway.

“You probably won’t get it, but my parents just see me as this disappointment,” Alex says.

“And why wouldn’t I get that?” she snaps.

He gives her a complicated look. “Imane, come on.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Oh, so you think that just because I wear a hijab and I get high grades that you know everything about my life? You think that you can just take one look at me and just know that I’m this perfect, submissive daughter or something?”

“That’s not it!” he snaps back at her. “Or - not exactly. It’s - you just seem so cool, like you have your shit together. And I thought - I don’t know. You’re right, I did stereotype you. I thought you’d be the kind of girl my family would love to see me with. But I also thought that you’d be the kind of girl I’d actually have fun hanging with.”

His confession and his tone of voice surprises her. She pauses, not sure what to say. When she eventually decides on just raising an eyebrow at him, he laughs. It’s weak, nothing like the raucous sounds she’s already used to hearing whenever he’s in earshot. But she’d be lying to herself if it didn’t make her smile, just a little bit. She allows her mouth to do that much, just the slightest upturn at the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t give me that look,” he says. “You might not believe me, but I’ve noticed you around. In school, at parties. You’re always dancing or laughing or starting fights. You're kind of hard to ignore.”

This time it’s her turn to lick her lips, which she does just so she can swallows the larger smile threatening to overtake her face. She can’t believe that his teasing is actually making her want to grin, despite him being a complete dumbass.

“Seriously,” he says. “I figured that as long as we were hanging out, I’d never be bored.”

She looks at him a bit longer, pressing her lips together. "Hmm."

She’s definitely still pissed off at him and his stupid plan, but there’s something else underneath her annoyance and anger at him. It’s not compassion, exactly, though she does feel for him and his family situation.

Despite what he - or anyone else might think - she struggles with not disappointing her parents too. She knows what people think when they see her; that her parents force her to wear the veil, that she doesn’t think for herself, that they force their religion onto her. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. And even though she loves her parents and they get along more often than not, there’s still many, many things they don’t agree with. There’s even more things about her that she’s sure if they knew about, they wouldn’t approve of.

No, this feeling is something more akin to… curiosity. Yeah, curiosity and maybe even… opportunism. She thinks about what she told the girls earlier in the semester, what the easiest way to get people to come to their party would be. _You have to hook up with the most popular guys in school_. She almost laughs at the irony of it. She raises one eyebrow, the plan already fully formulating in her mind before she speaks.

“And what was I going to get out of dating you?” she asks.

Alex furrows his brow. “Huh?”

Imane cocks her head. “Well, let’s say we dated. You would have convinced your family you were getting more serious, right? What would have been in it for me?”

“Uhm,” he winces slightly. “You would… be spending a few weeks with one of the coolest guys in school?”

She laughs. “Your ego is enormous.”

He winks at her. “That’s not the only thing that’s -”

“Ugh, stop right there,” she puts her hand up, still laughing, in spite of herself. “Please.”

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding apologetic at all.

“No, look,” she says. “Look. Your idea was a dumb one. You were wasting your time, thinking I would have said yes to a date, let alone wouldn’t have figured out your scheme within a few days.”

“Okay...” he says, sounding a bit suspicious.

“But I’ve decided to forgive you, as Allah teaches us,” Imane says.

“Right...”

“And I’ll be your fake girlfriend for the next few weeks.”

Alex jerks like he’s choking on his own spit. Imane shifts victoriously, her lips curling into a smile. He stares at her, disbelievingly, as if she’s just told him that she can turn into a werewolf during the full moon. The bus is near her stop, so she reaches over him to push the button to request her stop. She wants to drag this out a little bit longer, to be honest, because it’s sort of fun messing with him. But she knows she needs to get to the point, if she’s going to take full advantage of the situation.

“You… will?”

“Yes,” she says. “But in return, I want you to help me and my crew get every single cool, popular person in school to come to our party.”

“Done,” Alex says automatically. “Wait. What?”

Imane shrugs. “It’s simple. We pretend to date for a few weeks, your family thinks you’re becoming a devout and mature young man, and my friends and I become known as the girls who threw the biggest, coolest party of the year. It’s a win-win situation.”

The bus slows down as it approaches her stop. She stands up, shrugging her backpack back on and moves past Alex to get out of the seat. He automatically stands up, making room for her to get out. She almost presses against him as she moves past him, her nose just barely brushing near his neck. She gets an even stronger whiff of his cologne. It makes her face burn ever so slightly, and she has to clear her throat. As she steps into the aisle she looks at Alex, trying to maintain her composure. She tells herself it’s from telling him her proposal and not from how close she just was to him.

The bus stops, and she walks over to the back doors so she can get off. Just as she pushes the doors open, she glances over her shoulder at Alex. His head is tilted down slightly and he’s just staring at her. It’s nothing like the stares he used to give Emma. Those always reminded Imane a little bit of a predator. Like he knew that Emma was squirming under his gaze, and he knew that all he had to do was crowd her and overwhelm her emotions to get her close. This stare is something… more complicated. It’s like he can’t quite figure out exactly who Imane is, but he’s sure she has some kind of trickery up her sleeve.

Her hand itches slightly as she smirks at his furrowed brow. She’s not sure where the feeling comes from, but suddenly she wants to reach out and stroke the side of his face and tell him not to be so concerned. Instead, she clears her throat.

“Think about it,” she says. “We’ll both get what we want, and you won’t be lying to another poor, unsuspecting girl.”

He scoffs a bit, and then his mouth turns up into a smile. “Right.”

 

+++

 

**[UNKNOWN NUMBER]**

**_[Tuesday, 20:13]_ **

Alright, baby.

Let’s do this.

Okay, cool

Meet me tomorrow for lunch

We have to set some ground rules

#1 is don’t call me baby, by the way

Got it

Babe?

No

Honey?

No

Sweets?

No

Boo?

No

Sugar?

No

Darling?

How old are you, 90?

Don’t worry, I’ll think of something

I wasn’t worrying

Sure you weren’t

...Honey?

No

 

+++

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic: 
> 
> 1) "Imane" is a Swahili name, so Imane's family is from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It's not a Muslim-majority nation, but it's one of the former French colonies where Swahili is one of the major languages and that has a pretty big diasporic community in Paris. Her brothers are Elimu ("Elias" from og Skam) and Jabari ("the Eldest Bakkoush"). Binta is the "Jamilla" character, and is engaged to Jabari. I imagine that she is also a Black Muslim woman, specifically Ivorian. 
> 
> 2) Alex is Muslim, though he's not very devout. Both of his parents are Muslim. His mother is a Black Senegalese woman and his father is a white Frenchman and a revert. It's his maternal grandmother that's coming for a visit. 
> 
> 3) Pele's café doesn't exist, but I got the other two African restaurants from this list: https://www.timeout.com/paris/en/restaurants/the-best-african-restaurant
> 
> 4) I think that's it for now! Please let me a review to let me know what you think! ;)


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